21 Companions on the Same Path 2

Dragged back once more.

Everyone now is fully focused on what lies before them.

But Jin alone keeps his gaze averted from something else.

The doubt he cannot hide, even from the non-human people of Terminus.

He does not want Mio to leave.

He wants her to return to her former state.

These two desires are equal in weight.

No hierarchy can be assigned.

Thus, there is no choice but to decide elsewhere—outside of this wish itself.

To decide the fate of two precious people in a place beyond the two of them.

A revulsion arises at this impossibility.

He wants to hear her voice.

How would Sharon act in a moment like this?

(Should I choose myself—or her reincarnation? Such a choice. The one asked would be at a loss, wouldn’t they?)

It feels like some kind of psychological test.

And Edelweiss, once more, plunges Jin into torment—then walks ahead to the front line alone.

Jin is left behind.

It mirrored the emotional state Jin currently carried—slightly infuriating.

The world moves too fast.

Everyone leaves behind their own self. Moves forward.

But Jin—no matter the time—he cannot move forward without someone's help.

Always ahead of everyone on the battlefield, yet passive in matters concerning herself.

I am—

No one forces Jin.

Just wait, expecting me to choose for myself.

The time remaining is short.

I don’t want Mio to disappear.

Speak it aloud.

How hollow those words truly are.

The outward actions do not follow those words for reasons separate from desire.

A military mind thinking solely for the convenience of the Third Fleet.

He is moving now, nothing more than a public official.

Perhaps, if choice is not possible, one must decide from that position.

Let's go.

As a military officer of the Third Fleet Defense Force, he has decided to suppress Harold’s faction and halt the Laitera Project.

That is the decision.

Jin has a critical oversight.

What comes after success.

When he meets Mio again, this choice will inevitably lead to separation.

Jin never realized it.

◆ ◆ ◆

The ether dagger, coiling like a wave, severs the arm of the cyborg squadron’s griffin.

He aims to pursue into the cockpit immediately—then a shot from the enemy interrupts.

“Damn.”

He’s been forced to fight at an odd distance, as if his position were being manipulated.

He never thought his name would echo through the Second Fleet—such an exception would require breaking the entire fleet’s records.

Yet, given that Yuriya is closing in with multiple units, he should have assumed the enemy had already received his data.

Too convenient to be coincidence.

"Hey, Yuriya."

A little better than eight years ago, but still relying solely on broad suppression fire and feints with the ether rifle—no precision, just volume.

He calls to his partner over his shoulder.

"Leave the defense to us. You find that unicorn’s position."

『Why me? What about rear support?』

"Because you've been asking for that assignment since just now."

Yuriya is currently focused exclusively on evading and intercepting enemy assaults.

He has not been able to deliver effective supporting fire.

『Even just drawing their attention could be valuable』

"Come on, squad leader. You’ve been playing support so long you’ve gone soft. What’s our objective again?"

The old rank from training school, spoken with familiar irony, brings back a memory.

That’s right. These past few years, I’ve grown accustomed to only receiving orders—my ability to formulate commands of my own has been dormant.

That won’t do. I was entrusted with assisting Kō.

If I can’t realize that until Kō points it out, I’m unfit to serve as his aide.

Our objective here isn’t the annihilation of the Cyborg Squadron.

It’s the elimination of the autonomous defense units attached to the enemy’s Lombardia-class vessel.

To recenter himself, he slaps his own cheek through the helmet.

No pain. But the impact registers fully.

『Sorry!』

「O-oh.」

Kō, watching the entire exchange on the com-monitor, flinches slightly.

『I’ll be right back!』

Leaving the words hanging, Yuriya breaks from the front line.

The griffin, previously targeting Yuriya, shifts its aim to Kō.

Kō smiles faintly at the opponent who continues the long-range assault without change.

"…Well, I did consider this possibility, you know?"

His skills are specialized in close combat.

How to respond if the enemy commits entirely to long-range engagement.

If the battle devolves into a shooting duel, his tactical value plummets.

He had intended to bring his marksmanship up to average at least, but it appears he was given no more than mediocre talent in shooting.

Improvement remains ongoing, but a different approach was necessary.

"Can't afford to unlock a limiter like the Instructor does."

A fight that burns out in an instant isn't to Kō's taste.

—In truth, the idea of such reckless, futureless combat had only come to him during the two years Jin had cared nothing for his own fate.

Though it had proven useful enough, he had continued searching for applications afterward. But Kō’s thinking differs.

The point is, as long as he can close the distance to the target, it is sufficient.

Ether expenditure for shots deemed certain to miss is minimized.

Surplus ether is stored in the reserve tank.

Instantly redirecting the reserved ether to the thrusters and shield—.

"Grgh...!"

Kō groans under acceleration exceeding the inertia control limit.

Instantaneous acceleration surpasses five Gs.

Thus, Kō’s pilot suit is specially manufactured.

Physical countermeasures are implemented, ensuring the pilot remains conscious at such speeds.

Kō had, through past performance, earned recognition for customizing the unit’s systems.

The result is the ability to forcibly break through the enemy’s barrage and close the distance.

The Gryphon unit, stunned by the maneuver that appears indistinguishable from instantaneous teleportation, hesitates.

Rigorous tactical training and its execution.

But there is a critical flaw there.

No, not a flaw in the conventional sense.

Any tactic unanticipated will inevitably disrupt coordination.

This holds true for any pilot.

Yet a fissure born of perfect synchronization—meaningless to the majority—becomes a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a select few.

For certain ace pilots, specifically.

"Come on!"

Kou’s slash flashes repeatedly, releasing pent-up frustration.

No one can predict the serpentine arc of the blade on first sight.

No—Kou deliberately alters the trajectory.

Seeing it once does not mean it can be countered. Even the second time, the previous path remains etched in memory.

Thus, the most effective defense is distance. Yet Kou has accounted for that too.

Still, the Cyber Squad is no collection of incompetents.

The acceleration just now was too sudden to be controlled.

They knew that, at a certain distance, they would simply pass by.

And with a slash at the moment of passing, they were ready to take their opponent down as well.

The merciless strength of the Cyber Squad—willing to sacrifice their bodies.

A foe approaching, maintaining just enough distance to provoke a brief, violent clash.

Yet Kou had read that mid-range engagement as well.

The earlier acceleration was merely a contingency for long-range combat.

He knew full well it would be useless at this distance.

Thus, another countermeasure existed.

"Reach it!"

Grasping both Ether Daggers.

Synchronizing their Ether Oscillators.

Blade lengths doubled, output nearly twice the normal.

Double output meant double the blade length.

Pouring in the ether convergence technique taught by Jin.

A rough maneuver only Kō could perform.

The blade, slender as a thread, sliced through the enemy's coating with a motion almost jesting, cleaving the armor open.

They were severed at a distance too great for the ether dagger to reach—whether they understood what had happened at all by the end remains unknown.

The fractured cross-section undulates as if severed by no known force.

The broad, undulating blade is designed to prevent the line of attack from being read through Kou's arm movements.

Kou's finest preparation for close-quarters combat.

Named the Thread Blade.

Don't use that name.

The crew members listening to the transmission were warned. It was already too strong.